Mudlove
by empowerment
Summary: A Dramione fanfic aligning with the last book, from Malfoy's point of view.
1. Mudlove I: The Glare

She was doing it again. Glaring. But not just any glare, it was _her_ glare.

It isn't the kind of glare that says 'I hate you' or 'I loathe you', it's more of a 'how could you do this?', confused and upset glare. Her eyes were piercing mine, almost burning them, so much so that I thought she'd burn a hole straight through to the back of my head. That wasn't the worst part though, the worst part was the fact that while she was so angry and infuriated there were tears sitting above her bottom eyelid, slipping down her cheeks every few seconds. Apparently I didn't feel bad enough as it was. The funny thing is that it is her glare, which means I've seen it far too often. I could feel tears threatening to well up, as if they had been transferred directly from her eyes to mine, almost as if she were trying to make me suffer, like watching her sit in so much pain and anguish wasn't punishment enough.

My lips parted, as thought I was going to say something, but I couldn't form any words in my mouth, it was as if my voice knew I was not worthy of talking to her. I tried to make some sort of noise, but nothing. Not even the sound of my breath could escape my lips.

Without really listening to him, my father's voice broke the silence within my head and my attention was dragged back into the room, away for just her eyes that held so much pain and anger. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us if the sword is real or not!" I pulled my eyes from her battered and broken body and looked at my father for a moment before turning towards the stairs that led to the cellar. Before pulling out my wand, I wiped my eyes quickly, expelling any trace of tears as I descended the dark passageway.

"Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you." Even I knew my words were empty promises that I couldn't keep, but I said them as strongly as possible, raising my wand as I opened the cellar door. I looked around the room quickly, trying not to let Weasley's furious, almost murderous, expression affect me as I seized the goblin my the arm and pulled him towards the door, slamming it shut once we'd walked through.

I dragged the goblin up the stairs behind me, my wand still gripped tightly in my hand. Once in the presence of my family again, I put on all I could muster of a brave face and threw the goblin into their midst. Bellatrix stood up from leaning over Hermione and approached the goblin fiercely, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, brandishing the sword in his face whilst saying something along the lines of "is this from my vault?" I couldn't say I was listening to my aunt's words too intently; I was only worried about one person in the room. Hermione was lying perfectly still on the floor, the only movement coming from her chest, which was rising and lowering slowly, in strained and uneven breaths. The pain in her eyes had only intensified since I'd last looked at her and I was finding it hard to keep my eyes on her, tears threatening to breakout again.

Draco was once again pulled from Hermione's pained gaze as an unnatural, yet familiar, _crack_ broke what silence he had delved into. "What was that?" My father's voice boomed around the room, everyone looking up at once, trying to find the source of the noise. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" No one answered him, so he turned to his son, his white hair swaying from side-to-side as his fury and excitement balled up on his face and in his voice. "Draco- no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

I did as I was instructed, and quickly moved across the room and into a small cupboard-like room off the hallway. "Go check the cellar," I demanded as I looked down at the rattish man cowering in the corner. He stood at once and scuttered across the small room, out the door and down to the cellar. I once again joined my family in the drawing room, but this time I forced myself to look at the ceiling, as far from the heap that was Hermione on the floor.

Again a noise emitted from the cellar and my father's voice boomed from across the room. "What is it, Wormtail?" A raspy voice replied with a short "Nothing! All fine!" and with that all attention in the room moved back to Bellatrix who had thrown the goblin aside and was back to leaning over Hermione, her small, yet sharp, dagger against the skin of her rival. Hermione let out a blood-curdling scream as my aunt smiled a wicked smile as she finished off her handy work on Hermione's arm. Bellatrix stood up straight again and moved towards the goblin who had the sword in his hands and she once again demanded to know if it was the real sword or not. After being assured that the sword was a fake, Bellatrix pulled up her sleeve and summoned Voldemort, anticipation running high throughout the room, yet my eyes wouldn't leave Hermione's. Never before have I felt so useless and pained in one moment; I wanted nothing more than to pick her up off the floor and help her clean her bloody wounds, but I knew if I took even a step towards her I would probably lose a limb. However, the moment my aunt began to speak again, my eyes dashed in her direction, then back to Hermione.

"And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her." I went to take a step forward, but before I could rush to Hermione's aid, Weasley had burst into the room and disarmed Bellatrix, Potter close behind, ready to catch the wand. I wheeled around, my parents doing the same, and I began to aim whatever spells came to my mind first at Weasley and Potter as they fought back.

Then all of a sudden everything stopped, as if time itself had paused, finally allowing me to take in what was going on. Bellatrix's voice pierced the sound emitting from our wands as all attention moved to her, her arm now wrapped around Hermione's neck, her knife at the throat of the nearly unconscious girl struggling to stand before me. My attention was no longer focused on what she was saying; it was all on the blade that was now digging into Hermione's skin, a small amount of blood appearing, drop-by-drop. My mind seemed to somehow separate itself from my body as I was not thinking of anything but Hermione, but my body reacted to the demands of my aunt as I found myself picking up her wand which Weasley had dropped, and I then turned back to stand beside my mother. However, I wasn't given much time to get comfortable, because the next moment the chandelier suspended above Hermione, Bellatrix and the goblin was falling through the air and landed on the now alone Hermione as Bellatrix through herself out of harm's way. Before I could do anything to help Hermione, however, I found myself in an immense amount of pain, shards of glass and crystal flying into my face, cutting every part of my skin.

I doubled over in pain and heard a loud band and a groan which I believed to be Greyback being thrown against a wall, then I felt myself being pulled backwards and out of the way of any charms by my mother's soft yet urgent hands. The pain flooding my face was immeasurable, each cut feeling like a small fire alight on my face. My cold hands provided some aid to the pain, but the stinging was almost unbearable. Suddenly remembering that I was not the one crushed by the chandelier, I quickly removed my face from my hands and looked up just in time to see the small group huddled together around our old house elf, Hermione slouched in Weasley's arms. She looked so close to death that I had to restrain myself from rushing to her and pulling her into my own arms. Her eyes were now only slits, but I could see her pupils staring at me, the now tired glare still evident. Her face was the last thing I saw before they vanished in a blur of colour, Bellatrix's knife disappearing with them.

The moment they were gone silence fell, but everyone in the room knew it would soon be replaced by the furious screams of Voldemort. But I didn't care. All I wanted was to go after Hermione and nurse her back to health, no matter how long that would take. A single tear fell down my face, stinging each cut as it slid over my skin, Hermione's pained expression still so clear in my mind as my heart lurched on every beat, my chest tightening, my breaths short and raspy.

_What have I done?_


	2. Mudlove II: Unforgiveable Word

I couldn't pull my eyes from the spot where they had Apparated from, Hermione's pained eyes were burned into my memory forever. I seemed to go limp in my mother's arms as she dragged me from the room, my legs only just managing to push against the ground as I attempted to keep my balance. I was pulled into the bathroom on the first floor of our home, where my mother sat me on the toilet and locked the door behind us. Moments later there was a loud crash that came from the drawing room and the sound of what I assumed was Voldemort screaming. He was in my house, Voldemort, the darkest wizard in the world was in my drawing room, no doubt torturing my aunt only metres from where I was sitting and yet all I could think about was Hermione. Hermione and the way I had betrayed yet again.

"_Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?" My mother asked as the snatchers twisted the tied up group so that Hermione was in front of me, the light from above blearing down on her. The minute I saw her face I felt a release in my chest, as if all of a sudden the world made sense again. She was alive, breathing, blinking, alive. It took every ounce of my strength not to rip her out the ropes binding her to the others and wrap my arms around her, but I had to remember who I was in a room with; my parents were standing on either side of me, coaxing me to tell the truth about who was sitting in front of me, my aunt was on the other side of the group, a wicked smile plastered on her face, and the snatchers were all breathing heavily, excited and almost bursting with anticipation. Hermione looked up at me, her eyes squinting slightly against the bright light. She was looking at me with such desperation, almost pleading with me that I wouldn't tell the truth, that I wouldn't turn them in, but a small nagging voice in my head wouldn't leave me alone. _"She's a mudblood, Draco, a filthy mudblood, imagine the reward if you were the one to find Potter and his friends".

"_I… maybe… yeah," I muttered, watching Hermione's face turn from pleading to pained, the glare forming in her eyes, the glare that I knew wouldn't escape from her face any time soon._

I didn't realise my mother was attempting to fix the wounds on my face until she spoke, very softly, her piercing eyes staring into my far off ones. "Draco, try to ignore the noise, your father and aunt will be fine," her voice was shaky and even I knew every word she said came from a place of hope, not a place of knowledge. She didn't know if they would be okay and I wouldn't have been surprised if when we entered the drawing room again we would be welcomed by dead, lifeless bodies around the room. I looked at her for a moment, as if to assure her that I heard her, but then my eyes drifted to the marble wall opposite me, it glowing slightly as the moon's reflection bounced off it from the window.

My mother continued to tend to my wounds, but she wasn't using magic, I wasn't sure if it was because she had no appropriate potions in the bathroom, or if it was because she was wandless, but she didn't seem to attempt to fix them any other way than manually. She had filled up the sink with warm water and dipped pieces of tissue into it, which she used to wipe the small cuts on my face, trying to clean them as best she could. I would have been cringing the entire time if it weren't for the fact that the ache in my chest overwrote any of the stinging each touch of her fingers caused. I tried to take in deep breaths, attempting to clear my head of any thoughts of Hermione and all the pain she must be in, physical or otherwise, but every time I did I saw her face and heard her voice, as if she were haunting me. This time I was sure she wouldn't forgive me.

"_You filthy little mudblood," the words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them, as if my father had momentarily taken over my body and his words became my own. My voice even resembled him for that moment as I looked down upon Hermione, her eyes shocked and filled with hatred. I regretted what I had said the moment after I'd said it, but kept my front up, not daring to take back what I'd said in front of the Slytherin team. Too much was at steak, and I knew my father would kill me if I gave up such a good opportunity over a girl, let alone a muggle born._

"_Eat slugs, Malfoy!" Weasley shouted and before I could defend myself, he cast the spell, but much to my pleasure I didn't get hit, instead the spell deflected back on him and the red headed boy fell backwards and onto the ground. My teammates burst out in laughter and I followed suit as Hermione and Potter ran to their friend's side to see if he was okay. As Weasley coughed up a slug, I let out a single real chuckle, but it was quickly washed away by Hermione's reaction as she looked up at me and glared her famous glare, which would follow me everywhere for the next 5 years. I knew she was angry about what had happened to Weasley, but I knew she was even more mortified about what I had called her. It took someone really low to call someone a mudblood, and while I hardly appreciated the fact that she came from non-magical parents, it was an unacceptable term which I knew could cost me my place in Hogwarts if any teachers heard me say it. Hermione had the right to be furious with me, and I half expected her to curse me right there and then, but instead she helped Weasley to his feet and quickly rushed off, her and Potter holding him up from under his arms. Hermione gave me one last fleeting glance as they rounded the corner into the castle, her eyes intense and mortified._

"Ouch," I muttered as a new wave of pain hit me hard in the chest as I remembered the first time I called Hermione a mudblood, my desire to go back in time and fix what I had done so much stronger than normal.

"Sorry sweetheart," my mother said softly, dabbing my wounds a little more gently as she gave me a small weak smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I've nearly cleaned them all."

There were still loud noises coming from the drawing room, the occasional bang followed by a yell or scream echoing down the hallway as my mother attempted to conceal me from Voldemort's rage. I knew we couldn't hide forever, but I also knew he wouldn't stick around for very long. If I learnt one thing with being around Voldemort and his followers so much it was that the Dark Lord didn't like to linger for very long, he would usually show up somewhere, do his damage and move on. It would only be a matter of minutes until he was gone and it would be safe to leave the room again.

After a few more minutes of my mother cleaning my wounds and the screams and bangs coming from the drawing room suddenly ceased and I knew that Voldemort was gone. Once she announced that she was finished with my face, my mother helped me to stand, linked her arm with mine to keep me stable and walked me to the bathroom door. Our footsteps echoed along the silent hallway as we walked back to the drawing room, preparing myself for the damage Voldemort had done. My father was standing by the fireplace, his face more pale than normal, his hair in such disarray that he hardly looked like a Malfoy. I wasn't sure if Voldemort had harmed him, because while he didn't have any cuts or bruises, his face was pained and he looked to be in a lot of emotional and mental pain. I scanned the room for my aunt, and the moment I found her I had to restrain myself from attacking her. She was sprawled in an armchair, her head lolling backwards as she softly laughed to herself. She had clearly been hurt by her master because she was breathing heavily, but despite that, she managed to keep that awful smile on her face.

"What happened?" My mother asked my father softly as we took a few steps closer to him. "Did he hurt you?" My mother's hands let go of me and she moved to my father, her hands searching for a wound to mend.

"I'm fine, he just used the Cruciatus curse on me for a moment before he saw your sister," my father croaked, holding himself up on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. "Then he let all his anger out on her, I was barely touched."

"Bella," my mother almost whispered, taking hesitant footsteps towards my injured aunt. "Bella, are you okay?" Bellatrix only continued to laugh, as if she had been sent into an even deeper pit of insanity. She didn't bother to even look at my mother; her eyes were set on the ceiling, as if she couldn't move them. I took a small step forward ready to burst out and attack her at any moment, but Bellatrix spoke before I could.

"They got away," she slurred, chuckling between each word. "We had Potter and he got away. He and his little friends. I had them; I physically had them in my hands. I had the mudblood and THEY GOT AWAY!" She shut her eyes as she screamed, anger taking over her body as she began to tremble all over. "I was so close to being rewarded, to the Dark Lord thanking and praising me, and I let them get away. That stupid house elf betrayed us and helped them." I could tell she was getting ready to explode, as if she was actually bubbling up inside and ready to burst. "I HAD HER UNDER MY HANDS! POTTER WOULDN'T HAVE LEFT WITHOUT HER AND I LET THEM GO!"

Suddenly Bellatrix was on her feet, and, without using her wand, she screamed "IMPERIO", pointed her hands at a lifeless body I hadn't noticed before and threw it across the room. It crashed into the potions cabinet on the other side of the room and created a small explosion as the potions mixed together. A small fire started around and I watched as the dead snatcher's body started to deteriorate. Before anyone could do anything to stop the fire, Bellatrix had lifted another lifeless body and threw it towards my father and it crashed into the mirror above the fireplace, shards of glass pouring down onto my father's head as I leaped to the side and out of the way of any more damage. I looked up to see my father crouched on the ground, his arms covering his head, glass surrounding him.

Bellatrix was breathing even more deeply, her anger bubbling up as she wheezed in and out, glaring at the spot where the mirror was. She then suddenly turned and fell back into the chair, her limbs falling by her side.

"At least I got a chance to hurt that awful mudblood," she spat, her laugh filling the silent room once again, the word causing me physical pain. "At least she got what she deserved."

Before I knew what I was doing, I picked up a discarded wand that was sitting to my left (I guessed it fell from the pocket of one of the snatchers) and advanced on my aunt. "Draco, what are you doing?" my mother asked, taking a step towards me and placing her hands on my shoulders, trying to restrain me. I shook her off and rounded the chair to stand in front of my aunt.

"If you say that word again I will personally make sure there is nothing left of you for the Dark Lord to come back and punish again," I threatened, glaring down at my aunt. Bellatrix looked at me, a slight frown forming on her face before she burst out into laugher again.

"You-you want to hurt me?" she asked, looking up at me with disbelief.

"No, I want to maim and kill you," I growled, the wand tight in my somewhat shaky hand.

She stood up slowly, trying to decipher whether I was being serious or not, and when she realised I was, she chuckled as she began to walk around me. "Kill me, you say? I really don't think you have the guts to do that, Draco," she muttered, no trace of a laugh in her voice anymore as she continued to circle me. "You couldn't kill Dumbledore, an old frail man, so I doubt you could kill you aunt, someone in your family. But do try, I dare you, try." She stopped in front of me and stretched her arms out to her side to give me a clear shot at her chest. I continued to glare into her eyes as I raised the wand slowly.

"Draco, no!" My mother shouted, quickly advancing on me.

"He has to learn Sissy," Bellatrix said, shooting my mother down quickly. "If he doesn't learn how to overcome his fears he'll never to be a great death eater. He needs the practice."

I took a deep breath in, but when I went to speak nothing came out, all I could imagine was how horrified Hermione would be that I was hurting another human. She wouldn't accept it, no matter how much pain was caused by the human in question. I lowered my wand, turned and began to walk to the front door.

"I knew you couldn't do it," Bellatrix teased, her laugh back again. "I knew it!" Before I left the room, I swung around quickly and screamed "STUPEFY!" aiming my wand at Bellatrix. She flew backwards and my mother let out a screech. Before anyone could come after me or return the jinx, I turned on the spot and apparated from the house, leaving behind my horrified family and hurt memories.


End file.
